


Bah Humbug

by behindskylines (deanlovessammymorethanpie)



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Christmas Angst, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 03:25:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanlovessammymorethanpie/pseuds/behindskylines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan hates Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bah Humbug

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on December 24, 2008 on livejournal under the name himmerethwen (an lj username I used previously).

“I motherfucking hate Christmas.” Ryan sighed as he sat down on the couch. It was Christmas Eve. Well, the day of Christmas Eve and he couldn’t be more unsettled. He was home, in Vegas, by himself in too big of a house with no one but Hobo to listen to his bitching. And even she was getting tired of it, judging on how the clicks of her claws against the tiles in his kitchen were fading away.

“Fine! Whatever!” he yelled to no one in particular, to the walls, to the fucking fake Christmas tree that Brendon had insisted that he needed, and fucking decorated, spouting off random Christmas carols, and tra-la-la-ing all over Ryan’s house. He stamped his foot hard down on the carpet, and sighed, knowing full well that if anyone was here, they would accuse him of acting like a child. But, you know what? No one was here. There was no one sitting on the couch with him, cause Brendon was singing Christmas carols with his fucking huge family, Spencer was home with Haley and his parents and his fucking perfect traditions, and Jon was the farthest away, in Chicago, with his family and Cassie, and doing god knows what, but Ryan’s sure that there’s smiles involved, and loving hugs, and things that he just couldn’t be a part of. Hobo sighed from her bed in the kitchen, and Ryan just lost it.

He stood up with all of the rage and bitterness and _loneliness_ he felt inside, and charged at the Christmas tree, shoving his hands past fake pine needles and glowing lights, until his hands wrapped around the metal pole that it all hung from, and using all of his strength, he pushed and he pulled until the offending thing was knocked over, on its side, lights flickering in a mess of broken ornaments, shattered glass and an angel that looked perfectly peaceful with her skirts around her ears. The sight pissed him off even more, like his upsetting the tree had done nothing to upset the delicate features on her face, and he swung around until his hands found the felt stockings that Brendon had hung up on his mantel. He tore down the one that had his name stitched in gold, and threw down the one with Hobo’s name on it too. Sweeping his arm across the marble, he cleared the top of the mantel of all of the small trinkets that Brendon had placed there, the crystal Santa with his reindeers, a ceramic snowman with a top hat and broom, swept them all on the floor at his feet, and felt a sick satisfaction at hearing them crack and break. He let his mouth open, let a sad yell of fury and sorrow rip through him before he fell to his knees, hand landing on a sharp piece of Santa’s sleigh. “FUCK!” he gasped, as the blood bloomed on his thumb. “Fuckfuckfuckshit,” he muttered as he grabbed his hand with his other, catching the blood and struggling to his feet. He padded into the kitchen, picked up the first towel he saw, and went back to his couch, landing on it with a huff and worried his lower lip in between his teeth. The cut was small, and pulsed in time with his rapid heartbeat. Sucking his thumb into his mouth, he sighed, and felt everything just melt away. All of the anger and depression was replaced with pure exhaustion, and he let himself fall back against the cushions of his couch, and closed his eyes, wrapping his thumb with the towel again and just as a tear slid down his cheek, he slipped into sleep.

That’s where Brendon found him, hours later, long after the sun had set, with a stupid Santa hat on his head, and arms full of cookies and his mom’s famous spice cake. He surveyed the rest of the room, took in the damaged Christmas tree, and the bare mantel, before going into the kitchen. He dropped all of the goodies onto Ryan’s small dining room table, scratched Hobo behind the ears, and went back into the living room. Hobo followed him, lying down with a huff, and her nose on Ryan’s feet on the carpet. 

“I know, baby. We’ll figure it out.” He told the dog before leaning over to card his fingers through Ryan’s hair. His eyebrows creased, and he muttered something, but his eyes stayed closed. Brendon sighed. He knew that Christmas was a hard time for Ryan, had been before Brendon could even remember. That’s why he had gone through all of the trouble of persisting Ryan into getting a tree, and decorating it, and decorating the house, and stringing lights up outside, and hanging mistletoe on every archway of the house (which was no small feat in itself, the place was huge). But now, with Ryan’s Christmas rage spread out all over the living room, Brendon wondered if he had done the right thing, if forcing this much holiday cheer on him was the way to go.

He sighed again, placed his hand on Ryan’s cheek, and whispered his name. Ryan didn’t move. “Ryyannn,” he tried, a little louder, rubbing his thumb along the ridge of Ryan’s cheekbone. He stirred, mumbled something about curtains, and gasped awake.

“Bren?” he croaked out, bringing his hand up to knuckle at his eye. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check up on you and Hobo. And to bring you gingerbread cookies, and mom’s cake. And to bring you your presents.”

“M fine,” Ryan muttered, starting to roll away from Brendon and deeper into the couch. He just wanted to sleep through New Year’s. 

“Judging by the state of the house, I would say not. What happened, Ry?” Brendon leaned closer, and put his free hand on Ryan’s shoulder, halting his movement, and making him stay where he was. 

Ryan looked up into Brendon’s concerned eyes, and just hated everything about the holiday season. He hated how he hated it, and how it made that Brendon look at him with such worry in his eyes. “It is fine, Brendon. Leave it alone. Just…let me be a scrooge, alright?”

Brendon looked at him, searched his eyes before trailing his hand down Ryan’s cheek, and letting go of his shoulder. “Fine,” he said, straightening up. “We’ll be scrooges together then.” He plopped down next to him on the sofa. “So, now what? How do we scrooge together?”

Smiling softly despite himself, Ryan scooted over until he could feel the heat of Brendon’s thigh against his. “I don’t think you have it in you to be a scrooge, Bren. That’s like asking a duck not to quack.”

“I could _so_ be a scrooge! You just have to tell me how! How does one scrooge, Ryan Ross?” Brendon sat up to his full height, and turned a little to face Ryan, his knee nudging into Ryan’s thigh, a huge smile on his face.

Ryan took him in for a moment. “Well, the first thing that needs to go is that hat.”

Brendon grabbed the hat off of his head, and threw it towards the mess that was the Christmas tree. “Check. Hat off.”

“Next is the smile. No scrooge would smile like that on Christmas Eve.”

That took a little bit more effort, but Brendon schooled his face into an exaggerated scowl. “Like this?” he squeezed out of pursed lips.

Laughing, Ryan nodded.

“Hey, no laughing. If a scrooge can’t smile, he certainly can’t laugh.”

“You’re right,” Ryan agreed, and mimicked the scowl on Brendon’s face.

“See, Ross? I told you I can be a scrooge. I might even be better at it than you are.” He looked so proud of himself, even with the fake scowl, and his hair mussed from where the felt hat once sat.

Ryan sighed, looked down at his hands, where they were balled into tight fists on his thighs. “Go home, Brendon. Go do Christmas like you’ve been waiting for all year. Go be with your family.” He saw one of Brendon’s hands come into his line of vision, saw it rest lightly on his knee.

Brendon’s voice was soft as he spoke, and Ryan could feel the emotion behind it. “But, Ryan…I am with my family.”

He looked up, caught Brendon’s eyes with his own, and couldn’t stop the slight tremor in his lower lip. He bit on it harshly before letting it go to say, “You know what I mean, Bren,” before looking down at his hands again.

“Yeah, and you **don’t** know what I mean.” Brendon leaned further into Ryan, took one of his fists into his hand, and spread out the aching fingers until he could lace them in between his own. “I don’t know where I would be today, if it weren’t for you. When my parents kicked me out of my house, who offered to help me find a place to stay? Who came over all the time, and watched my crappy TV, and ate my crappy peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and slept with me on my crappy futon when it all just got to be too much? It wasn’t my dad. It wasn’t my mom. It was you, Ryan.” He squeezed Ryan’s hand tightly, “You’re the one who made sure I got up for school, and that I ate something. You’re the one who was there to pick me up when I thought that I had hit rock bottom. You are more special to me than any of those people back at that house. You always have been. You always will be.” 

Ryan finally looked up, biting on his lower lip again to keep the words inside, to keep the tears at bay. 

Brendon’s free hand found its way to Ryan’s cheek, and wiped away the traitorous tear that had escaped. “Sometimes, Ryan…” his own voice caught on the edge of Ryan’s name. “Sometimes, biological family isn’t family at all.”

Blinking rapidly, Ryan chewed on the inside of his cheek, and let out a sigh before crowding into Brendon’s space, pushing until he had his back against the arm of the couch, and Ryan in his lap. Brendon wrapped his arms around Ryan instinctively, straightening his legs out on the couch, and pulling Ryan in. He pushed Ryan’s hair back from his face and asked, “Do you want to tell me what happen?”

Ryan shook his head under Brendon’s chin, and then nodded. And shook his head again, before sighing. “I just. I felt like I didn’t have anyone, and that everything was mocking me. Making fun of me.”

“And you got angry at it?”

Ryan nodded.

Brendon took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and ran his fingers through Ryan’s hair, tugging on it gently. “You know that’s horseshit, right? That you don’t have anyone?”

Ryan nodded again. “I know that I have Spencer, and you, and Jon. It just got…overwhelming.”

“That’s right. You do have us. And you always will, Ryan.” He tucked his cheek against the top of Ryan’s head, nestled a bit and sighed again. “I should have told you this ages ago…” he whispered.

“Hmm?” Ryan hummed, his lips buzzing against Brendon’s neck.

Brendon paused for a second, and tried desperately to not shiver at the sensation, and said, “I love you, Ryan.”

“I love you too, Bren.” His lips nudged against Brendon’s skin, breath hot. 

Fuck, Brendon was only human, and he blamed that on the small gasp that escaped. He licked his lips, worried at his bottom one for a moment, contemplated just letting it go at that. But, he had already started, and was tried of just starting this conversation, and never finishing it. “No…I mean, yeah. But…,” he sighed, gathered up his courage, and said, “Ryan, I’m in love with you.”

Brendon felt three brief seconds of panic when nothing happened, and then, Ryan’s head came up off of his chest, and Brendon immediately started rambling, “I mean, not that anything has to happen, I just wanted to tell you, and I guess that right now probably isn’t the best time, but I just…I hate thinking that you think that you don’t have anyone, when you have me. You have all of me, and you always have. Ever since I met you, the first time I saw you, with your eyes so guarded, with this edge, this desire to trust, I wanted you to trust me, and now, I think you do, or you did, but I’m not sure any…”

Ryan’s lips on his stemmed the flow of words. Brendon’s mouth tried to keep talking against his, until his brain shut off completely, and he fell into the kiss, opening his mouth at the subtle questing of Ryan’s tongue. He grabbed handfuls of Ryan’s shirt, and pulled himself up against him. 

Ryan pulled off, looking down into Brendon’s eyes, his flushed cheeks. “I wish I had known that would shut you up. I would have done it ages ago.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Ryan sighed against Brendon’s lips, kissing him again until he felt Brendon trying to move away. Panting against his cheek, he said, “What, Bren? What’s up?”

“Are you sure that you’re not just…you know…distraught?” Brendon looked at him, with concern in his eyes again. “I don’t want to like, take advantage of you.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Do you want me to tell you that I’ve kinda had a huge crush on you since you opened your mouth in Spencer’s grandma’s living room?”

“You did?”

Nodding, and blushing furiously, Ryan ducked his head, and grinned. “Yeah, but I can either tell you all about it, or I could kiss you again. Your choice.”

Brendon leaned up again, threaded his fingers together behind Ryan’s back, and nudged his chin up with his nose. “Kisses, please. Talking later.”

Ryan smiled, placed both hands on either side of Brendon’s face and kissed his full lips again. Brendon moaned into it, slid one hand to tug on his hair, and the other dug in tight on his shirt. Placing one hand on the arm of the couch, Ryan leaned Brendon back until they were lying down on the couch again, legs tangled, and mouths hot. In the dining room, the old grandfather clock from his dad’s house, the only thing that Ryan kept, chimed away, signaling that it was midnight.

Brendon trailed his burning lips away from Ryan’s, mouthing open kisses against the skin of Ryan’s neck, and thrusting his hips up slightly. He bit down slightly, gently, and Ryan squirmed against him. 

“Mmm, Merry Christmas, Ryan.”

Ryan shoved his hands into Brendon’s hair, hauling his face up so that Ryan could place his lips against his again, so that Ryan could lick the inside of Brendon’s mouth. He smiled down at Brendon, “Yeah…yeah, it is,” he whispered before kissing him again.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading! <3


End file.
